Some content on this page is not suitable for young eyes or faint hearts.Views expressed by Sleep Talkin' Man rarely reflect the opinions of waking Adam.Especially the desire to exterminate all vegetarians (but he does hate lentils.)

Karen's notes: We're spending the weekend with close friends from the States, so Adam is surrounded by Americans. Perhaps that explains the first one? Although we haven't ridiculed him for his silly accent yet.

Every weekend, we go for a long walk in Richmond Park, where we encounter scores of mole hills. I believe I have mentioned before that Adam is quite accident prone, so he tends to have an especially acrimonious relationship with these mole hills.

20100826

There is an explanation for how this one ends. On July 8 STM was asked to remove his iguana from afternoon tea. Ever since, one of our readers, Stony13, has been campaigning daily— quite eloquently, I must say&mdash for tea rights for iguanas everywhere. As soon as Adam said, "We shall celebrate with tea," I thought to myself, "Oh, Stony's gonna have a field day today!" The fact that Adam then made the same leap just shows how successful Stony13 has been in bringing Iguana tea rights into public consciousness.

"I'm sorry Baby, that's gravity. I can't help it that I'm physically attracted to you."

20100823

"That's a bird. That's a bird. That's also a bird. Another bird. Bird. Bird. Fish! That's a fish, I can see a fish! Bird. Dog. A bird. God, this game's boring. A bird. There's a fish, woohooooo! Fuck this, I'm going home."

Karen's notes: Poor Adam. I was organizing my iTunes the other day, and I kept playing a particular song from a particular musical over and over, trying to decide which version to keep. Adam is one of those rare men who likes musicals— and he likes this particular musical— but I think he was ready to stick his head in the oven.

And here's the transcript for those who don't get the audio:

STM:

BUNCH OF ARSE

ADAM:

Oooh?

KAREN:

(sleepy stretching sound)

ADAM:

Oh, you were asleep. I'm so sorry I woke you!

KAREN:

No, I wasn't asleep.

ADAM:

I woke you.

KAREN:

You didn't.

ADAM:

Didn't I?

KAREN:

I was just lying here quietly.

ADAM:

Quietly fucking snoring... I'm sorry.

KAREN:

Was not! How would you know, you were sleeping.

ADAM:

I'm joking.

KAREN:

Do you know what you yelled?

ADAM:

Um... It finished with arse. So, I'll give you three options.

KAREN:

Mm-hmm?

ADAM:

Big arse... Fat arse... or... You're an arse.

KAREN:

Nope. You yelled: Bunch. Of. Ass. Bunch of ass.

ADAM:

Pretty image. I have no reason why. I like your bunch of arse, though. Pretty.

20100820

"Scales. Must have scales. And razor claws. I want some feathers. And a goggly thing on its head. Yeahhh. Dinochicken. Awesome! I feel like a god. All right, what's next? Guineapigasaurus. Bring it on!"

Karen's notes: Mr. Whippy = Mr. Softee. For those who are still lost, soft ice-cream out of a big white van. But listen to this insanity— and this is one of my major complaints about England— Mr Whippy only comes in vanilla! Not once has some entrepreneur said, "Hey, you know what would be good? Chocolate soft ice cream. And maybe we can even find a way for people to get them mixed!" If you want chocolate, all you get is this silly little chocolate stick called Flake sticking out of your ice cream. And, despite the fact that I love the recent Flake advert, it is pretty shitty chocolate.

All I am allowed to say about the second one is that it is related to something at Adam's work.

Added later: Although I think flake is totally whack, all other Cadbury chocolate is delicious.

This morning, Adam spent quite a while brainstorming the antics that transpire on Veggieween. I was so sorry that I had turned the recorder off. I'll do my best to recreate some here:

"Veggieween! When the meat eaters get dressed up in animal costumes to torment vegetarians. It's a celebration of all that is good about eating meat. You go knocking door to door, with an enormous skewer, and people slide pieces of meat onto your stick. Then, everyone gets together in the park for a huge barbeque. Any vegetarian households, you tar and fur the house, and you— no, you can't throw blood at people's places, that's just too much— …fat! Yes, you drizzle fat all over their doorstep."

I just want to say here that Adam totally respects vegetarianism and loves animals (even though he sometimes eats them).

20100818

(whispering) "Shhhh. I have to tell you this. But I have to be quiet, or I'll get in trouble. (normal tone now) Midgets. You know, small people. People of pathetic height, I think that's what they're called. Yeah. Diminutive folk... in drag, scare the shit out of me. But only in drag. Don't know why. Must be something from my childhood. Mmm-Hmm. Scary shit though."

Karen's notes: These are from the nest egg. Too bad the recorder didn't catch Adam whispering his opening disclaimer.

Merch news: After much clamoring yesterday, I put "All I want out of life is ice cream and cuddles" in the shops. Shirts and mugs! While I was at it, I also added "Shark cuddling: The next extreme sport".

There's a special on for the rest of August! All tank tops and muscle Ts are 25% off. Use coupon code NOSLEEVES at checkout (except Canadians, use CADNOSLEEVES).

20100810

We went on holiday for three days, and I went to all this trouble to pre-schedule fabulous posts from the nest-egg. But, I screwed something up with Saturday and Sunday's posts, which is why you were all left hanging for two days, and why Monday's post didn't acknowledge the lapse. But now we're back!

We took Adam's kids for three days glamping on a goat farm. Of the three nights, Adam only talked one of them, but those few mutterings were clearly inspired by reality.

First there was this one:

"We've got some serious stealth chickens on our hands. They lay so quietly. They're stupid and sneaky, with their scratching and pecking and... bagawking."

There were two particular chickens who liked to spend their days rooting around in the dirt outside our cabin. One of them would even hop inside for a visit every day. Here's our special chicken:

Outside our cabin was a hill. Sitting atop that hill was a plastic tractor. That sturdy little tractor spent its entire day, every day, being pushed up then ridden down the hill by children. That probably accounts for this gem:

"This is MY tractor, and if I wanna roll it down the hill, I bloody will. Back off. I'm going down. Weeee! Heh heh heh."

Adam didn't want me to include this one, he thought it was lame. But I think it's hilarious that he goes for this joke-- presumably about someone's brain being shit, or listening through their ass-- and utterly fails. I mean, how else would you be listening?

"I thought about quitting. I also thought about driving my fist through your skull. Not sure which I'll do first."

Karen's notes: It seems that STM still has camping on the brain. We did indeed struggle with the hardness of the ground this weekend, especially the first night, when we pitched our tent in the woods. Adam was feeling pretty excited to get back to our nice soft bed. And, of course, it's probably no coincidence that marshmallows entered into the metaphor.

For those who don't know, "pitch" means "set up camp". We were lucky enough to find a lovely little spot in the field away from everyone else. However, Molly is such an adorable little doggie, we were constantly surrounded by children looking for a snuggle.